The Australian Tankery Tournament - Triumph of Newcastle
by Kasrkin-Ghost
Summary: AU In the Australian Tankery Tournament, Newcastle is considered as a weak and easy opponent. Trent and his crew are going to change that. My first attempt at writing Tank Combat. Reviews would be (MORE THAN) welcome. Author's Note updated.


**********A/N: March 3rd Update: This is now the final version of the Prologue. I do suggest re-reading it. Chapter One has been having severe writer's block, but hopefully I'll get over it. Expect it by week's end.**

_******Prologue**_

**PROLOUGE **

**9th of February**  
**Sturt National Park, New South Wales**

The midday sun barley shone off of my Cruiser Mk VIII tank as it sat out in the open. The drab British green paint that covered the Cromwell absorbed most of the sun's rays, and only a few areas of exposed or rusted metal reflected the light. There was however the bright white lettering on the turret's left which proudly proclaimed the name the crew had bestowed upon our tank; _Wherezatiger_. The white lettering was on all the tanks in our team, though each set of letters proclaimed a different name. Despite making it easier for the enemy to spot us, the names lifted morale for the team, and so would stay. Thus we'd turned our turret so that the lettering faced away from the enemy's last known location. I didn't want the enemy to spot our position, on merit of seeing our name.

The position wasn't too bad, even though _Wherezatiger_ always ended up being used as the bait tank. From where we sat, we could overlook the entire field, and our rear half was hidden by a large yellow-ochre rock that jutted four metres into the air from the ground. To our right, south on a compass, a lazy breeze that could not be felt from inside the turret cruised through the thin bushland. I wished I could feel the breeze, rather than merely see it. Only ten metres within the Mulga trees sat _Gunpowder_ in their better camouflaged Cromwell, just waiting for either the enemy to spot us or for us to spot them. If I had my way it would be the first option.

I tapped my gunner's shoulder and looked over to her. The petite girl that served as my gunner was only one year fresh off the boat from Germany. She'd picked up the sport of Sensha-do, which is almost unheard of outside the Pacific Rim, as fast as she'd learnt English and had proved herself to be a natural at the sport. She raised a blond eyebrow as she turned to return my gaze.

"See anything, Hilde?" I asked her.

She pressed her light blue eyes up against the gun's sights, and slowly rotated the turret in a complete circle. When the turret came to a rest, she leant back into her seat and sighed. She looked over at me and shook her head. I turned to the tall and lanky Radioman. The brunette haired boy looked over at me.

"Have _Gunpowder_ or _Tortoise_ seen anything, Jack?" I asked him.

"Nope, all's quiet Commander." he replied.

"Well I'm going to turn out," I informed my crew, "and see if I can spot them the old fashioned way."

I pushed open the cupola and extended my legs, pushing my body through the hatch. As I emerged a welcome gust of wind blew straight through me, and briefly cooled me down. Though the forty-three degree heat reasserted itself within seconds. The sun still sat high in the cloudless sky. It had been a dry late January, and thus the ochre-red dust sat lose all around us. The enemy wouldn't be able to move without throwing it up into the sky, as a looming red cloud on the horizon proved.

I grabbed for the pair of vintage binoculars that I had taken a custom of tying to the Cromwell's cupola. When my fingers closed around the old black metal casing a searing pain shot up my right arm. I swiftly slammed my left hand over my mouth, before I could let out a string of curses. The scorching summer heat had turned the binoculars into a branding iron. I could almost swear that my hand was blistering.

I snatched my blue beret, the iconic uniform piece of the _Newcastle School for Tankery _team, from my head and used it as a makeshift glove. Gripping the binoculars through it, I lifted them to my eyes, and peered through. The Strzelecki Desert seemed to grow nearer as I gazed at them in a magnified scale. Though I could clearly see the dust trail, it took me a few seconds to identify what was making it. Once I spotted the Soviet olive T-34 that headed the trail I sunk back into the cupola. My ever observant loader, Matt, poured his canteen's water over my right hand as I submerged. I flashed him a smile.

"I spotted their last tank!" I announced, before turning to Jack to give him more details to rely to _Gunpowder_, "It's a T-34-85, looks like a Model 1944 if I'm not mistaken."

"AP round up, sir!" My normally stoic loader announced, as he closed the gun's breach.

"Thank you, Matt. Hilde, aim for the second road wheel on the tank." I commanded, "Hopefully we can stop the bastard in his tracks."

"Want me to start up the engine, sir?" Chris, my driver, asked.

"Right after Hilde fires." I ordered Chris, before turning to face Jack, "Jack, as soon as Chris starts up the engine, I want _Gunpowder_ to charge with us down the hill, and face the T-34 at a closer range. Relay that to _Gunpowder_."

Jack began talking into the radio set, as Hilde began turning the turret. I heard her muttering in German. Her barely audible words sounded like calculations. Over five hundred metres away, the T-34 of the _Brisbane Tankery College_ rumbled along, unawares of its impending doom. It turret slowly rotated to the left, before stopping at forty-five degrees and rotating back the other way. It still hadn't seen us.

"On the way!" Hilde exclaimed as she fired the Cromwell's 75mm Vickers High Velocity gun.

Through my binoculars I witnessed the round bounce off the T-34's armour, right above the second road wheel. Hilde swore as Chris started up the Rolls Royce engine. We began to reverse, before Chris spun the Cromwell to the left and we started speeding down the hill. The crashing of an old Coolabah tree announced that _Gunpowder_ would be following us down the slope.

"AP Round Up!" Matt announced.

"Hold fire, until my command." I told Hilde. "Matt, I want next round to be APCR."

They both acknowledged my orders. I planned to wait for our Cromwells to get closer to the T-34, where their sloped armour would be far less effective at deflecting our shots. With two Cromwells, we'd be able to encircle the Brisbane team's tank, and destroy it.

"Sir, radio message from _Tortoise_, they've taken out the enemy's last BT-7, but they were destroyed doing so!" Jack exclaimed, before mumbling to himself, "Something about being rammed…"

That was it, the T-34 was the last tank left on Brisbane's team. With a smile I pushed myself back out of the cupola. The T-34 had stopped its advance, and was now rotating so that its thick, sloped frontal armour faced us. Its 85mm cannon roared, and a plume of rock and dirt erupted only metres from our tank. _Gunpowder _returned fire, and similarly missed, as to be expected in a tank moving at fifty kilometres an hour.

"Jack, tell Alexis to take her tank on the thirty four's right, we'll go left!" I ordered.

Jack replayed the order to Alexis, the Commander of _Gunpowder_ Team, and I ordered Chris to swing us to the left. Chris traversed the tank as fast as he could, while maintaining our fifty kilometre and hour speed. I braced as the tank's movement slammed me into the right side of the cupola. We were now less than fifty metres from the T-34, and were closing rapidly. I ordered Hilde to fire the cannon.

A burst of fire left the end of _Wherezatiger's_ gun, propelling the 75mm AP round. The round found its mark, and blew two treads from the tank's tracks. Like an uncoiling snake the rest of the T-34's tracks came undone and fell to the ground around it. The enemy could no longer choose which armour would face us. With the roar of an injured lion, the T-34's 85mm cannon fired, and the round buried itself into _Gunpowder's_ lower glacis. The Cromwell slid to a stop, and a white flag ejected from the Cupola.

"APCR round up!" Matt shouted.

"Excellent," I replied through gritted teeth.

The T-34's turret had begun sweeping back. The Commander of their tank was as desperate as I was. It was their last stand, and our final charge. With the wind rushing through my hair, we hurdled toward them at over fifty kilometres an hour. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I gave my final order.

"Fire at the driver's hatch!"

The gun traversed for a mere second before Hilde pulled the trigger.

"On the way!" She shouted.

The round tore through the air, before smashing into the enemy's front. The T-34 shook with the impact of the round, and a large plume of smoke arose. When it cleared I saw the T-34's white flag, and depressed barrel. I pumped a fist into the air, and shouted in joy. Newcastle had survived the battle.

I slumped down into my commander's chair, completely drained of energy. I looked around the Cromwell's interior, at my excited crew. Jack was talking loudly on the radio with _Tortoise_ Team, questioning something to do with a ram, and Hilde had leant forward to embrace Chris. I looked over at Matt, and the excited mood started to drain. Matt's grim face was less than excited, to say the least.

"You know this means we'll be up against Melbourne for the next match." He solemnly proclaimed.

**A/N: I write in the Queen's English****_,_ so you may find some words spelt 'wrong' or used 'incorrectly' dependant on which type of English you speak. Please correct me on any grammar or spelling mistakes. Please review! Hoping to have Chapter 1 out soon, though I plan for every chapter to be longer than this, and am trying to force myself to a 4000 word minimum for future chapters.  
Feb 6th Update: Location Changed. Slight grammar and spelling corrections.  
**


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